Friday, January 22, 2016

Blind Chess by Cristelle Comby - Interview and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Cristelle Comby will be awarding all four books of the series, signed by the author (International Giveaway) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

If someone were writing a story about you, what would your blurb say?

There’s some family drama in the background. I had a difficult childhood and traumatic teenage years. I guess the blurb would rely heavily on that to entice readers to buy the book – never mind that my life is now perfectly normal and happy. I’m not sure that’s a book I’d like to read.

Would you tell us a little about your newest release that isn't in the blurb?

Well it’s the direct continuation of Danse Macabre, the third book in the series. It picks up where the other one left off. Alexandra Neve’s in the hospital, badly injured. Her life’s hanging on the thread. That leaves Ashford Egan on his own for the first time since the two of them started their PI company. He has a pretty good idea who tried to murder his friend, and he knows there’s probably a second bullet somewhere with his name on it. The only way they can both survive is for him to catch the man who ordered the hit… London’s most notorious criminal.

What was your favorite scene to write in this story?

The ending was sweet to write. The face/off with the Sorter was also a great fun to do.

If you could trade places with one of your characters, who would it be and why?

I wouldn’t mind being Dimitri. His life is never really in danger, and by the end of the book it looks like his trafficking business is really going to be booming. So yeah, I think he’s made a pretty sweet life for himself. Plus remember that he can get you an excellent caviar at a very low price – no custom fees applicable.

It is supposed to be Neve and Egan. Two partners, a team. What happens when a member of this team of Private Investigators is shot, prognosis unknown?

As Alexandra Neve lays comatose and defenceless, Ashford Egan must take on their enemy alone, and find the cagiest criminal Scotland Yard has seen in decades. Determined to succeed, Egan will stop at nothing. He’ll hit on married women, plant bugs, hire hitmen. And he’ll do it all blind, which makes things ten times as difficult.

Double-crossed by friends, convinced there is corruption in those sworn to uphold the law, Egan is forced to form unlikely alliances as he moves forward in a game that requires skills, nerves of steel, and a willingness to play against all odds.

Enjoy an excerpt:

A gentle wind is blowing, but it is too cold for the leaves to carry any scent. Seconds tick away, as I wait.

A few minutes before the half hour, I hear the whining of the Lantesks’ garage door and soon after the rumble of a car engine coming to life. Mrs Lantesk is on time to go to work.

Ten feet long the old woman had said of the gravel lane. It isn’t much and I count the seconds after I first hear the crunching of gravel under the car’s tyres. On three, I take a large step forward, bracing myself for the impact I know is coming.

An instant later, the front of Mrs Lantesk’s car hits me on my right side and I fly to the ground, instantly losing all sense of direction. Up is down, down is left and I am only certain of one thing.

I hurt.

Turns out, no matter how ready you are for it, no matter how much planning is involved, or how carefully you give in to the motion and roll to the floor to absorb as much of the momentum as possible... getting hit by a moving vehicle hurts.

The car comes to an abrupt halt an instant later, tyres screeching against the gravel. The engine dies and I hear the car door open. It is followed by a steady stream of feminine and high-pitched, ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.’

Monica Lantesk must be wearing heels for I hear her feet tapping the pavement as she hurries towards where I lie sprawled.

‘Are you all right?’ she asks in between another chortle of oh-my-Gods.

I am, for the most part. I’m not seeing stars or anything and I take quick stock of the situation. Nothing seems broken; my glasses are missing, but I still have my cane in hand. I push myself up on one elbow and make a show of moving the cane about in what I hope is a dazed and confused manner. There is another wave of oh-my-Gods, as the woman realises I am blind and she starts to pat me awkwardly on the shoulder.

About the Author:Cristelle Comby was born and raised in the French-speaking area of Switzerland, in Greater Geneva, where she still resides.

Thanks to her insatiable thirst for American and British action films and television dramas, her English is fluent.

She attributes to her origins her ever-peaceful nature and her undying love for chocolate. She has a passion for art, which also includes an interest in drawing and acting.

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